Apology
by iAlice-Collins105
Summary: It's only been a "few weeks" and John's life is in shambles. Not for much longer. After finally returning to the flat it appears Sherlock has returned and gotten back to doing what he does best. Will John FINALLY get the chance to say what he wanted to say or will his pride keep his mouth closed? With a new woman on the scene, it seems he may never get another chance...
1. Prologue

SHERLOCK

Apology

PROLOGUE

* * *

"_Sherlock...please stop this... get up... Stop being __**dead**__"_

* * *

It had been...god knows how long and as John looked around he seemed to find some...distaste for the human race at that particular moment in time. Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detectives, was lying dead in the ground...and they were all more worried about their tea on the kettle at home and their parking tickets. He adjusted his arms in his jacket as he stood in front of that door... those numbers that once spelled out home were nothing more than a jumbled mess of unsaid words and nearly forgotten memories.

He glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds ahead and the rain pelting him in the face was nothing but a mockery, a rather ironic one considering this was his favorite sort of day, a gloomy one, one out of the ordinary..he never did like boring. He looked around people passed, umbrellas open and his eyes locked with the eyes of a blond woman across the street, a pair of thick black glasses concealed the eyes he desperately wanted to lock onto, and it wasn't until the cab pulled out of the way, that he was tossed back into reality, and reminded of his purpose for taking a step back on this street.

By the looks of the mail all jammed in the slot in the wall it was apparent he'd been gone a lot longer than he previously thought. He was here to do nothing but get the last few items he wanted to hold onto. That damned skull, those last remaining books... His favorite tea kettle...his blanket, his sweats...his night wear...and well...anything else. It wasn't until he had to return to his old accommodations that he'd realized how truly alone he was. With nothing but his blog to keep him company, his sanity was slowly plowed into the ground, and with it, every last shred and ounce of hope that he'd be back..he never came. Not to him at least... Doctor John Watson...it once held such a high meaning, but it was nothing more than a name at this point... one that surely rolled off the tongue but what was he?... Nothing truly important.

He reached for the mail in the slot and held onto it as he reached in his pocket and balanced a rather large coffee cup with his arm as his fingers dug around in the leather pocket, searching for that key. He grunted and readjusted himself, and unlocked the lock and took a step inside. That familiar scent of tea and biscuits reached his nostrils, signifying Ms. Hudson had been there only moments ago. He let out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding and began that slow trip up the stairs.

It had been weeks... brutal... unforgiving weeks. He wasn't even sure how many, he only knew he'd lost weight, lost sleep, and lost the ability to care about the activities of his fellow man. He didn't even bother reading the paper when they announced HIS death. He just saved it, putting it on a table by his lap top, writing about whatever he needed to. The blog was for mysteries...but his own. The mysteries of his own mind. John swallowed hard, making sure to do what he'd always done, hold himself back, and keep his feelings contained. Just thinking about his life and how it had taken a sharp turn for the worst, it did nothing but yank at feelings he did his best to bury... the same way they buried him. He reached the second flight of stairs and stopped briefly as a squeak rang out. The sound stopped and started again, and John blinked hard, and once the realization of the fact that the noise was not one fabricated by his own unbalanced mind, he retched, but stopped and shook his head, nodding.

"That sound...its...V-violin...Sherlock?" He whispered the name and sprinted up the stairs, tripping once, his foot flying roughly back as his face then collided with last step of the flight, and he swiftly busted his chin on the stair whimpering lightly. His eyes practically rolled on their own as he shot up, holding the spot of injury, checking for blood, and scoffed before he continued his climb, smearing blood on the rail as he sprinted up the stairs at a rather unbelievable pace. He reached his destination, and grabbed the door, slinging it open, the coffee and mail slipping from his grip as he was unable to hold their grip on them any longer.

That tall slender figure standing in front of the window, his normal purple button up on his slender shoulders as he stopped again, and turned, his lips pressed thin until his eyes met with John's and the other stopped breathing. A warm smile then a snicker, and the man rested the violent at his side as his blue gray eyes met with John's.

"Most people usually knock"

"Sh...Sherlock"


	2. How?

**SHERLOCK**

Apology

Chapter 1

How?

* * *

"You don't have to keep apologizing"

* * *

"Sh..Sherlock" John limped forward and Sherlock for once set his violin down and approached his friend, only having a little time to truly prepare himself for what was to come. He expected a wonderful hand shake and a pat on the back, and a million questions but instead... John grabbed him, hugging as much of the tall man as he could, digging his face in his chest, gripping the back of the shirt with every last ounce of strength he could muster and he couldn't help himself... he choked on a sob, and began to fall to the floor, Sherlock awkwardly going down with him.

"J-John...what's the matter with you? You JUST stepped through the door...There's no need to lose yourself quite yet" He didn't answer so instead, Sherlock offered a head pat, and just continued to stroke his back, unsure how to respond to this. The pats seemed to work, and he did nothing else but that to attempt to ease his friends troubled mind so they could talk properly, not have to talk through gross sobbing noises. It was very flattering...crying over him. How polite... John eventually released him after what seemed like an hour of grotesque sobbing, and offered a small grin and Sherlock rolled his eyes, returning the goofy smile.

"Are you finished yet?" His tone was what John could consider the worst attempt at sarcasm in human history and he wasn't going to lie, he was slightly offended by it. Its not like Sherlock would understand but... He was ALIVE. Here, living, breathing, 100% real. For god sakes, John had just SOBBED on Sherlock Holmes... How embarrassing. He would never let this go, oh how foolish...Wait a minute...

John then looked up, and punched him square on the cheek, shaking his hand roughly as the detective flew back, his head meeting wooden floor rather roughly, and he let out a grunt. John took a sharp breath uttering the word ow silently, and Sherlock shook his head, his dark raven curls shaking with his head as his eyes rolled for moment and his face began to swell. He slowly sat up, but quickly got to his feet, grabbing the arm of the sofa as a support as he began the process of recovering from a nasty blow. John dried wet eyes and resumed shaking the pain from his hand...as if that would help.

Sherlock grabbed his face, biting his lip, and sighing shaking his head and his eyes went wide and he put his hands up, shrugging. John glared at him.

"Ok..I suppose...I possibly deserved that rather...poor display of human instinct"

"Ohhh don't worry Sherlock I was just seeing if you were real.." John said pouting and Sherlock gave him a lift of the eye brow.

"Good beca-„"

"DAMN IT SHERLOCK! WHY THE HELL HAVEN'T YOU CALLED?!" Sherlock flew back slightly as if John's yelling had some how startled him. He was about to say something but instead, John continued his voice still loud but slowly quieting down.

" It's not like the last time I saw you you were lying DEAD on the pavement... blood leaking out of every opening of your face. The least...the LEAST you could've done was contact me! Writing, calling, TEXTING even... I would've been content just to know you were ALIVE...damn it!" John said shaking his head angrily. He then stomped back over to the mail, and picked it up, shaking the coffee off of it and throwing it down on the table.

"W...Well I'm here now aren't I?" Sherlock offered, shrugging. John shot him a look of disapproval, and Sherlock kept a straight face.

"A bit to late... I cried...sobbed even..you just saw it. I went to your grave every day... and said things...and my blog...You haven't been reading it have you?"

"I've had not an ounce of contact with any technology since I came back to the flat...I haven't been able to LEAVE either so NO, JOHN, I apologize for not keeping up with that damned blog of yours..." He huffed shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. John took a whiff of the air and frowned. Sherlock had been smoking...another reason to yell at the detective, but he kept his mouth pressed in a line, and instead attempted to distract himself as he reached for the letters he'd slammed down on the table, and began browsing.

"What are those?" John looked and took a breath, Sherlock scaring him a bit.

"Fan mail.." He answered shrugging.

"FOR ME? How pitiful...humans are so..odd" He said as he poured John a new cup of coffee, mixing it the way he liked black with one sugar. He offered the coffee and John hesitantly took it before relaxing into the chair he decided to sit on. Instead of sitting across from him as he normally did, he sat on the arm of the chair John had sat himself in. Something odd, considering Sherlock had never wanted to intentional be close to him before.

"Oh goodness me... these girls are... not ok" Sherlock said setting the letter down with a look of distaste on his features as he then instead walked over to his violin putting it away. John looked at the older man silently, waiting for him to speak, read him like a book, like he always did.

"Judging by that...glorious look on your face, you have questions? Am I right, John?" Sherlock asked, taking a sip out of his tea cup as he finally took a seat in the chair opposite of John so the now lengthy conversation between the two men could begin.

"Of course I have questions... how are you.." John paused... and Sherlock smiled idly.

"Alive? Maycroft... brought a lot of people in to that hospital room... It was miraculous really... They used my own medicine to revive me, and it worked... I walked away with a cast and multiple stitches...but I have to admit, I think staying dead would've been easier than all of this hiding. I'm sure you've been reading the papers? Oh...no you haven't... I can tell. Hm, well, of course with every small celebrity death someone has to go and assume it was faked, and that I'm still alive... but, just staying here has kept me in good safety. I only solve mysteries after dark" He said his eyes fixated on John's nervous face as he repositioned himself, putting a hand to his cheek as he took another heavy sip of his coffee.

"Alright... Last we spoke, y-you said, that all of...this...you being Sherlock wa-"

"A lie? Well, I never expected to..be alive, I had to leave it at that so if the press decided to harass you, you could tell them what I said." He said shrugging. So, the real lie is that I lied about lying...yes...that's it" He said nodding. John coughed and a drop of sweat formed on his brow and he swallowed hard feeling his palm get sweaty.

"Sherlock..." He looked up and locked eyes with John.

"Hm? Yes?" He asked and John sighed.

"Last we spoke..on the phone..you said..you researched me...to impress me...why say that if everything was a lie?" John asked his lips pressed in a hard line. Sherlock looked to the door, back to John then smiled casually.

"That...that was no lie" He said and stood and that's when John turned around to see Ms. Hudson standing in the door, groceries in hand, but they were quickly dropped so she could latch onto Sherlock, grabbing him around his neck, saying hello and telling him how much she missed him.

"Oh Ms. Hudson calm down.. You were here just a little while ago" Sherlock said setting the old lady down and she pushed him lightly, uttering playful words before walking into the kitchen to start up tea. Sherlock resumed his spot on his chair, a playful grin on his usually solemn features, all the while ignoring John whom was a tad bit in shock.

'He wanted to impress _me_...'


	3. I'm Sorry

**SHERLOCK**

Apology

Chapter 2

I'm Sorry

* * *

"_I can't say sorry any other way"_

* * *

The week had started out smooth. Nothing but taking trips around the town after dark as to avoid any attention from people, and John willingly tagged along. Sherlock seemed to be a hollow shell of his former self like he wanted nothing more than to let out every last ounce of his intellectual sputter but he couldn't. Because Sherlock Holmes was supposed to be dead. Six feet under ground. No more, no longer in existence. People still asked questions, he still ignored them, so although every ounce of whatever it was he considered fun had been sucked out of his life, he hadn't changed all that much. He was still Sherlock. The consulting detective of bakers street.

He did small things. Find lost pets, solve a missing persons case. The only time he truly needed to get out and get things done, he would take a cab and haul himself out of England, going to other parts of the nation to aid others in their problems, sending John frequent texts phone calls, voice-mails, anything to keep him up to date. John didn't mind but the constant calls were becoming a habit for the curly haired detective, and John just needed peace. He wouldn't get it though, and he supposed he shouldn't complain. Sherlock did after all convenience and beg John for a night out...

"Remind me again why we're here?" John asked as the two slid into a booth of a rather exquisite restaurant, one of which John wouldn't have preferred to attend. They were only two of the seven people present in the entire establishment and every person or couple was split up evenly through out the restaurant, and Sherlock and John had been lucky enough to land in the farthest corner away from others. Sherlock crossed his hands and when a menu was handed to him swiftly ordered his drink and passed the menu right back to the confused lady who bit at her bottom lip with a look of shock etched onto her face.

"I..I'm sorry about him. Just bring me a bottle of this restaurants finest red wine please... Thank you dear" The girl nodded, and walked away quickly, and John looked at Sherlock who simply shrugged and began playing with his silver ware.

"Oh honestly Sherlock! You drag me all the way out to this fancy place and you can't even find it in yourself to behave? Why are we even here? I just wanted to stay home, watch the tele, listen to you fiddle with your violin like we always do" Sherlock sighed and shook his head. For one night... would it be so hard to just repay him the way he thought a friend should? He set his fork down and eyed John carefully.

"Just be glad I'm taking a risk like this, please..." He said and John some what relaxed but only because they way he uttered please sounded so strained and desperate and full of need, and who was he to ignore such a plea?

"Here you gentle men go... anything to eat?" She asked looking between the two of them and Sherlock pursed him lips, his eyes traveling over her in a hurry and he snickered.

"Not for me, I see you've got somewhere to be in..a few minutes actually..John order quickly..." The waitress looked somewhat appalled and John shot him a nasty glance. Tonight was not the night to be a show off...especially not here. Not in this restaurant and certainty not on this part of town.

The raven haired detective grinned devilishly and looked to this side, now ignoring the waitress' presence entirely. John ordered something in french and actually seemed to speak it fluently, taking a sip of the glass of wine his shook his head and grinned a smile that almost made Sherlock grin rather warmly at the blond across from him.. to see him so content...was such a wonderful sight. He felt his chest clench, and he swallowed hard, suppressing whatever he was feeling, ignoring it, and shoving it to the side.

"That...is phenomenal. Sherlock you must have a drink!" The man said but stopped realizing his gaze was fixated on a woman whom had just entered the building a woman sat across from her and something about the other woman screamed familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. John looked back to Sherlock whom then moved to sit on Johns' side of the booth, ignoring his small noises of protest. They were meaningless little lies anyway...and Sherlock knew it.

"Quiet down...those girls...we'll discuss it later..here's your food eat quickly while I go pay the bill..." He said and got up, striding across the resteraunt and John nearly slammed his head into the table. He'd have to take it to go... again... for the third time this week. Never before in the entirety of their relationship had Sherlock been so willing to buy and provide for the army doctor as much as he had in the last week. Bringing and making the man break fast every morning. If John had to leave early to go to his office, Sherlock would actually leave the flat to deliver the food to him.

It wasn't even a clear thing... not like it had ever really been a clear thing but... Sherlock was never like this... so...what was the deal? He's have to ask later, or just figure it out himself... The tall lanky arm detective stood at John's side and snapped him from his troubled thoughts.

"I assume you're ready to go?" Sherlock asked in a hushed tone, his voice somewhat husky, and John has to swallow hard.

"Well I suppose... considering I didn't get to eat or anything..."

"Look... I'm...apologetic, that you didn't get to eat your dinner, but I'll have to explain why we're leaving in a rush, so please, quickly, let move" He said and John didn't question him beyond that. He'd wait, and do as Sherlock asked. The two scuffled out the door and the detective held his arm out and only moment later, two people also stepped out of the restaurant, umbrellas open and glasses on. Sherlock smiled and continued walking, the doctor left to follow quickly behind. The man looked down at his shorter friend and quickly took the food from his arms, and continued walking as John shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Why'd you do that?" He whispered and was ignored, and hurt. He didn't bother asking anymore questions until they arrived back at the flat, and the door was shut. Sherlock set the food on the table and stammered over to the window, and looked out.

"Those two have been following us every where we've gone this week... Every last place we've gone they've been there...when we leave, they follow us home, and round the corner and they're gone... God forbid they have to start coming around when I'm trying to be a good friend"

John's head shot up and his head simply titled at the use of the word. Now he'd caught on... the realization, struck him in the face like a quick slap to the wrist would aid a child in seeing their mistake.

"You've been apologizing all week? Sherlock..why?" John asked ignoring the food on the table. Sherlock spun around to face him, his face solemn.

"Please...just..ignore me" He said nodding and John rolled his eyes.

"Look, I'm over it. You're back, I'm fine knowing you're alright...You don't have to keep apologizing Sherlock, I'm fine... just knowing you're alright and not burried six feet underground...and I'm not alone...it's...nice" John said, his voice trailing off, as he showed to be incapable of revealing his true feelings. Sherlock took a step forward and his lips turned white due to the thin line he had them pressed in.

"Listen, John, last time, I took your word for it, and I let things get horribly out of hand, I owe you as many apologies as I feel will suffice enough how how much I could've hurt you... And maybe did... you never were to straight forward with your feelings...always beating around the bush... but please, this time, don't tell me to stop apologizing.. because no amount of apologies i can give can express how truly sorry I am..." John stood, a bit taken a back by the sudden emotional out burst from the usually other wise distant detective.

"Just say sorry...it's not like I really need anything else"

"Ohhh don't play that game with me I read you like a book! You only got in the door five seconds, and your in my arms SOBBING... busted your chin on the stairs got blood on my shirt... don't play that with me... You were so alone...and I owe you so much" He said seriously, swallowing hard. John just sighed and walked towards him, and grabbed him, and pulled him into a firm hug. He didn't want it to say to much it couldn't be helped. That hug... held so much meaning, not even Sherlock was quite sure how to sort it out.

"I forgive you alright?"


	4. Guns n Horses

**SHERLOCK**

Apology

Chapter 3

Guns n Horses

* * *

"_She was nothing but hell with lipstick and high heels"_

* * *

"Sherlock... it's three in morning, what on earth are you doing?" The detective replied with a tight squeeze, and John sighed, and closed his eyes, not really comfortable, but relaxed. Sherlock hummed a bit, readjusted himself, all while not letting go of John. This wasn't the first time it had happened, and it didn't take long for the army Doctor to realize that Sherlock was nothing more than a stubborn anti social five year old trapped in the body of a thirty two year old man.

It was late December, only a month since Sherlock's sudden return back to earth as John had mildly put it, and with each day that passed, Sherlock's behavior increasingly changed. It would be something new everyday. Although a week ago John had told Sherlock he didn't have to keep apologizing, the kind behavior didn't stop. The breakfast deliveries were so routine now, that John had moved his clock in time to ten o clock every morning. It would always happen...once a week... They'd go out, they'd come home, and little bits and snippets would be said to each other, and it had grown to the point John had acquired a nagging fear that those words would one day leave his lips.

The rain dripped and splattered on his window in a rather harmonious rhythmic passion, and sent chills up Sherlocks spine. How he enjoyed rain in the early morning it made for a cloudy evening...his kind of weather. It was becoming over bearing however, holding onto that secret much longer. He'd been letting bits and pieces of himself out, not sure how to express or prove himself to his flat mate. Every day that passed, it was as if his emotionally self was being thrown away and he wasn't sure he enjoyed it. Not knowing the Doctor could have possibly felt the same way...

"John.." Sherlock whispered, and it was only then that John had been snapped back into reality and realized that he was rather close to his face. He coughed and cleared his throat. Careful not to move, and bump heads or anything on the other mans face with his own.

"Hm? What is it Sherlock?" He asked, and the man sighed.

"I lied to you..." he said, his voice some what trailing off at the end and John scoffed.

"That's nothing new really...but what was it this time?" Sherlock remained quiet for a moment and John called out his name questioningly. While waiting, he readjusted his pillow and sniffled, moving the covers as to give Sherlock some, knowing the man wouldn't be returning to his own quarters that night.

The curly haired sluth sighed, and sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. John didn't make any movements, and instead just laid still, waiting for the man to explain his poor attempt at an honest apology. He supposed he shouldn't have been all that surprised, but this seemed to be urgent...especially if Sherlock had risked not only his violin time, but ruining his own agenda and keeping people from avoiding his personal space.

"I remember I'd told you I hadn't been reading your blog... however, Mycroft... he aloud me to check in on it, every so often. But there was no way for me to contact you personally as you would have desired from me...especially with you thinking I was diseased and buried and non-existent..." The way he said nonexistent inquired he had more to say, but John wouldn't let him, not really wanting to hear any more.

"Sherlock, can we talk about this in the morning? It's a little bit late" John said, burying his face in the soft blankets on his bed. Sherlock turned to look at him and the only way he'd known that was by the shadow of his body that had been caste on the wall, and a small angry sigh left his pursed lips and John frowned, and began to block him out, and only moments later it was as if someone had swung in and swiftly swiped his consciousness because he began to drift and doze of at an impressive rate.

"Quite the contrary John, it's not late, it's early...very early. My bottom line, is I read every last post, from the one you posted after you returned to your home after your session with your therapist and to the one you posted the day you arrived at the flat and every last one in between... And... the contents of those articles... you said things on that...that you apparently hadn't even told your therapist during your session...I...I can't understand... it rattled me a bit..." John grunted in response, and Sherlock reached out with a shaky hand and shook him, earning a silent snore in response. He thought hard and then with a thoughtful attempt to show his feelings, leaned towards the Doctor, and placed a small peck on the corner of his mouth, covering him up and then lying at his side, once again latching onto the blond, covering them both up as a sad attempt to keep them both shielded from the cold.

John woke with the sound of a crash and jumped up, grabbing the nearest robe and tied it around his waste, looking down he noticed Sherlock was also absent, and called out to him, his voice full of panic as he emerged from the bed room, ready for a fight but instead was greeted by an angry detective and two girls who sat on a chair. One in the seat, the other on the arm. The crash of course had been caused by Sherlock whom shook his head.

"Sorry to have woken you without giving you breakfast but, sadly, we seem to have quests"

One of the girls laughed.

"Oh, come now Sherlock don't be such a stiff! You should welcome your friend with open arms and...admiration."

"Honestly Alice, you're not my _friend_... I don't have _friends_. I only have one, and I assure you, it's not you. Now, if you'd so kindly get out of my flat, I have a meal to prepare."

"Sorry but can't. We're here on official business sorry to announce..."

"Uh, Sherlock whom are they?" Sherlock shot him a look over his shoulder and John shrugged and stared for a moment, and it wasn't until he got a better look at the blond with the ridiculous sun glasses on her face did he realize.

"O-oh!" He said laughing. "It's THEM, the ladies! The one's you had to tell me about from the last ti-" Sherlock shook his head and pressed his lips and the women began to laugh.

"Ohh, I knew you'd catch on, you always were a bright one... Listen, its not her you two should worry about its me. You're both going to be having your hands full fairly soon I assure you. Sorry to say, buttt... I may, or may not be involved" She said shrugging. It wasn't until John rubbed the last ounce of sleep from his eyes and yawned, and truly woke himself did he see and some what recognize the woman before him.

"O...Oh my god... you're Alice Collins. You're like...what the head at least five huge corporal businesses?" Sherlock looked at John whom only shrugged.

She was a tall slender woman with a busty figure and pale porcelain skin. Her black hair was styled with side swept bangs and ridiculously voluptuous raven curls She had gray blue eyes, and a dangerous smile, and she practically screamed scandalous. Her heels were high and her skirt was tight. She was all about business and it was apparently obvious. Multiple pieces of jewelry and a soft jaw line plus a high collar spoke novels to Sherlock but was taken in as nothing more than admirable features to John whom couldn't help but eye her assumed to be secretary.

The girl was blond with a bob style cut and Asian bangs. She was much more petite wearing a button up knee length coat that flared at the waist. She wore boots under it but the outfit under the coat was a mystery. He had yet to see the woman without her glasses, and Sherlock smiled idly at her. Oh how he enjoyed reading people like the simple boring books they were.

"Yes...as you know our companies aid in supplying medicine and weaponry to armies stations out side of the states. Oh but how wonderful it is to receive some warm recognition sadly its not needed. Listen, as I stated moments ago. I'm here on business. Sherlock, this came to me, but it's for you... I was told not to open it, and I did. The contents are priceless... You boys have fun you'll be seeing us again very soon" She said smiling sweetly, as the blond girl then lead her out and bowed as they shut the door and Sherlock opened the yellow envelope, and John blinked watching as the detective stood, pursed his lips then shivered, goosebumps appearing on his forearm.

"May I ask what's going on?" John asked curiously.

"We're finally BACK in action! OH this is FANTASTIC!" He clicked his heels together and began to celebrate and speaking at one hundred miles per hour, making the doctor yawn again.

"John, you don't understand...not only did she and Mycroft clear our names, they both managed to get us more cases!" John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck rolling his eyes.

"So the hat man and his companion are back?" John asked rubbing the side of his face lazily.

**"We're back in the game!"**


	5. Weather

**SHERLOCK**

APOLOGY

Chapter 4

Weather

* * *

"_I would've been ok with this...any other night...but why now?"_

* * *

John sat silently, typing away at the computer, his fingers grazing over the keys in a peckish manner as if he wasn't fully focused on whatever was on the screen before him. His mind was elsewhere, thinking hard about not only the past week but the role to which everyone played had somewhat knocked him off a bit and scattered his usually calm thoughts. Sherlock lay silently on the couch murmuring on about the rain outside. John however, was elsewhere.

Sure, he knew what was expected of him on a case, how he was supposed to act how he thought he SHOULD act and being Sherlock's...assistant, of course he knew he was supposed to go to every crime scene arrive for every celebration of Sherlock's talent every phone call every quick hasty decision made on a whim, he was to be there and offer whatever he thought was needed, if it that was nothing more than a nod of a head, but lately, it was as if...everyone..had changed. Sherlock had toted him around with such urgency and need it was almost hard to believe Sherlock was...Sherlock. It was as if...

"Sherlock... you said you hadn't been reading updates on the blog right?" The male whom had been unintentionally interrupted shot John a rather disappointed look but rolled his eyes and stared off for a moment before clicking his tongue.

"Well...Seems to me your memory's been a bit sluggish as of late...have you been eating, John?" Sherlock asked standing up now, and that's when he saw it...true concern, etched into the detectives features. John coughed nervously.

"W-well...not to often. No... you actually go out and when I don't tag along I'm here checking the news and watching the tele. Eating just...slips my mind I suppose. Nothing to worry about Sherlock I promise you. Ok?" The man rolled his eyes and stormed into the kitchen, and immediately began cooking, leaving John to shake his head in assumed confusion.

"Knock Knock! Ahhh Doctor Watson...how..pleasant to see you here again." John looked up to Mycroft, clearing his throat and looking back to his screen. The man closed his umbrella and tucked it away. Sherlock emerged moments later with a plateful of pancakes, and urged John to eat, almost ignoring his brother whom rolled his eyes.

"Listen both of you, please. John I understand you're not pleased, you have every right to, and as for you Sherlock, Alice came into day and handed me the details of a new case, and this one is...a bit...puzzling. Nothing in it for the British government, only...the common citizen. But, its not boring I promise. He took the contents from his pocket and lied them on the table, and nodded.

"If you decide to take the case, please do keep me updated. I want to know how this one ends, John, your blog is doing...fabulous but I must say for a while there people were concerned with your... state of mind. Be careful what you write... ok... I'll leave you boys to it. Good evening gentleman" Sherlock practically shooed him away, allowing John to get his time to eat before he took a step any where near the documents holding the details to probably (_another_) boring case.

"S-Sherlock... these flap jacks are fabulous. Thank you, really" He said pushing the empty plate aside. Sherlock smiled giddily.

"Glad I still have the ability to impress SOMEONE IN THIS HELL HOLE!" Ms. Hudson poked her head in.

"What's with all the yellin?! Goodness Sherlock you're still in your night wear... put some clothes on for gods sake!" She said pouting sweetly. Sherlock simply snickered.

"Ahhh but see, god isn't real my dear Ms. Hudson. Listen, I need you to keep an eye out for the paper boy today and inform him he's a bit of a slacker alright?" The frail old woman nodded and waddled back down the stairs, leaving the boys alone.

"So, Sherlock what were you talking about earlier? My memory... You said it was getting bad. Can you please tell me what I've forgotten?" John asked, raising an eyebrow, hitting the post button. Sherlocks phone buzzed and he cleared his throat, giving John a moment to think. Any moment... Times up.

"I lied about your blog... I've read every post since the day I was "buried". I made an attempt to talk to you about it the other night perhaps a week or two ago, but you fell asleep on me. Not that I frankly blame your actions, I did after all come in to disturb you at four in the morning so it was really more or less bad thinking on m-" John threw his hands up, stopping him.

"W-wait...what? Sherlock... you told me you had no contact at all with the outside world at all... you sai-"

"I know what I said John but I did my best to sneak a peak when I could... you hardly ever updated perhaps once a month? If even that..." John hissed and rolled his eyes.

"Excuse my language but that's bull shit and you know it! I updated every day for the entire month I grieved over you Sherlock...every...day! I was nothing but an empty man with nothing to help him get through the days Sherlock because you were DEAD. You were in the ground. I watched you jump! Does my pain not concern you at all? You said it yourself Sherlock, I'M YOUR ONLY FRIEND, if that's the case why is it always so hard for you to show a little concern? A little compassion?! Damn it!" Sherlock looked more puzzled than touched. He put his hands up.

"John... you didn't update, every day for a month you updated your blog once or twice every month for a year and a half. I waited for you to come back for roughly six months..." John looked skeptical, and went back to the homepage on his website, checking his posts, and as he scrolled lower and lower, his face gradually seemed to sink in on itself as he pressed his lips into a thin line, the concern and horror written all over his face. He moved away from the computer bringing his hands to his face to rub it in an attempts to shake the terrifying thoughts from his clearly disheveled mind.

"I've never lie... I've never lied about something like that. John... you apparently didn't leave your home once within that year and a half. You maybe went out once or twice but that was because you had to to pay bills and restock a fridge that was already filled to the rim. I don't know if you've really noticed your rather out of control hair and your inability to fit all your clothes properly, but you're very hollow and dull and its as if you're...absent of life... As if you're the one who died...did my absence in your life make that much of an impact?" He asked crouching before John who looked up, his wavy blond hair seeming to turn into a problem now.

"Sherlock.. I may have pals or acquaintances but I've only known one Sherlock Holmes, and you, are my only true friend. I'm sorry you're having to see me like this I know peoples emotions aren't a strong point for you... I'll...give m"

"No.. stay... it helps me understand, leads me closer to an answer. You are a case all your own John Watson..." The doctor rolled his eyes smiling a bit.

"Honestly now...You're the only person who's ever gone this long without boring me to the point of resentment. Thank you" John blinked in slight confusion titling his head to the right slightly.

"If I may ask, what are you thanking me for, Sherlock?" The other man snickered a bit.

"Being alive...and being here becau-" A crash, a shriek, the sound of Sherlock being called downstairs and policeman in the door ruined the moment, and John coughed jumping to his feet, feeling slightly light headed but instead ignored it, looking to the man, nodding his head as a greeting.

"What is it Lestrade? I was kind of in the middle of something with my blogger"

"I was told you received case details? Get out of your jammies, another one just occurred." Sherlock shook his wary mind and rolled his tired eyes. John looked at him, his curiosity and better judgement being tugged at and he stood and walked into his room, Sherlock heading to his own.

The tall man wondered over to his closet, reaching in and grabbing hold of what seemed to be a blue button up and a black jacket. He grabbed the normal pair of pressed black pants and then his shoes and removed his clothes folded them, and dressed himself, starting with pants, then top then jacket then coat and scarf. He circled around himself, and grabbed his umbrella, and went to the door, seeing John in his normal attire an umbrella in hand.

"John... keep that hair..it works for you" He said snickering and John couldn't help but feel slightly flustered but he only wondered if the pale man meant it. Never the less, he was quick on his toes and snapped his head around to look at Sherlock, and smiled dominantly.

"Ahhh shut your trap you over grown child. Lets go solve us a case." Sherlock simply smiled and followed the man out.

"Has John been eating?" Sherlock pushed the man aside.

"Lestrade I don't think John health condition is really any of your concern, now, moving on the important aspects is says here these are all accidents, but, as we all know I wouldn't be here if that was the case, so, what do you know? What do we know what do I know? Its been raining for the past two weeks. Flooded water could have easily ruined the driver sight but they were all said to have WONDERFUL vision. I'll need to take a peak at bodies later but that can wait... I suppose.. It's time to get a closer look?" He said, leaving John to inspect the body to give his usual quick diagnoses and time of death. Sherlock touched everything on that toppled, beaten up car.

A near silent grunt and the opening of a car door made the man chuckle before he headed to the back of the car to check the tail pipe, whipping it with a rag and tucking said rag away in his pocket. Sherlock looked at the scene one more time, and nodded giddily and stepped over to John whom was discussing things with Anderson who walked away.

"Alright GREG"

"Sherlock no formalities"

"FINE, LESTRADE, Its quite simple, alright? Now, the driver was headed home from I would suspect to be a factory on account of not only the smell in the car but the brief case in the back seat and the box of items you removed from the car. Heading home, westward, past all these busy streets, but something went awry. Ohh...yes... I whipped the tail pipe, there's some kind of residue on it from what one would think is tape. There's an indent in the car in the passenger seat so our lovely little factory worker was not alone in his ride home last night."

"Sherlock..there wasn't another body" Sherlock smiled and motioned to the car and Greg sighed.

"Anderson, get in there and do a thorough search for hand prints, hair anything that could get us a suspect. Sherlock, head to the la-"

"Ohh I'm far from done...it wasn't JUST that... The engine...the front part of the car, although it had crashed, that wasn't it..oh no...there was an explosion, you can clearly see the amount of ash and burnt metal which one would suspect happened because of the crash but nooo no no. It's never that simple, John what did our dear factory worker die from?"

"Smoke inhalation.. He's been dead for only a few hours.. But couldn't that have been due to the fact we didn't get here in time and he couldn't get out of the car due to injuries"

"Good thinking ahead but nooo not quite...our murderer didn't LET him out...but whyyyy? Why go through all this trouble? That's my question and I willll figure it out" Sherlock said nodding.

"Alright, John, lets go look at some bodies shall we?" Sherlock offered and grabbed his wrist dragging him along so he could keep up to his pace. John felt his face go hot when he looked back to see everyone snickering and smiling. When they got within a few more feet of the main road, John wriggled his arm free.

"Sh-sherlock! Please! People will think we're a couple!" He said rubbing his wrist. Sherlock rolled his tired eyes.

"Ohh let them think when has such irrelevant things ever bothered me?" John sighed, and felt his mood sink slightly, as if what he was about to say brought him guilt before he even said it, but it was too late.

"It's not like you're alive... you don't have to worry" Sherlock blinked and bit his tongue from replying and sighed, and turned away from John, calling the cab to a stop, the entire ride there the two men sat in silence, as if there was more than just a foot and a half separating them from one another. John regretted it. A slip of the tongue...and he could just apologize because he knew Sherlock wasn't one to dwell..never had been, never was.

"mmmmhmm, all died of smoke inhalation, but, the reason for it is quite simple. They weren't aloud to leave their cars. I still don't understand. What's the reason?! They all seem to hold a job in a familiar field but what does that have to do with anything?! There was no symbol, no bit or piece of evidence that leads ANYWHERE!" He yelled grabbing his hair in sheer frustration. John sat silently on a nearby stool, sipping a cup of tea watching his flat mate have a mini break down.

"Maybe their boss just didn't like them?" John asked, shrugging. He wasn't serious. It was just pointless chatter but Sherlock stopped and stared at him.

"Their...boss? If not him, than WHO?! But why kill them? What's the point in that? I don't understand.. unless...it's not their boss...but a group of bosses" He said rubbing his chin, and he then walked out, leaving John a bit flabbergasted.

He still had yet to apologize, but looking down at the cup of tea in his hand that Sherlock had fetched for him, made him realize that Sherlock was being much more apologetic now. MUCH more. He sighed and walked out to go finally give his friend his apology, sick of having to feel the self induced guilt that was born out of some grudge that Sherlock had lied to him and waited months to tell him.

"Sherlock I-" The man turned his head roughly, a test tube in one hand and papers in the other. John bit his lip, unsure of what that look in Sherlock's eyes were. Was it a glimmer of...hope? Or was it more of something else? Need, perhaps? The army doctor was unsure, his emotions were always beyond unreadable after all. They stared at each other a moment the tension sky rocketing when Sherlock fully faced him, setting the tube and papers down, and he approached John with only a few steps, towering over him. John knew he was tall but this...this made him feel so tiny compared to the man before him. Sherlock swallowed hard, and his hands grabbed Johns face, and he leaned in, placing his lips on John's with such a gentle touch it was as if they weren't touching at all.

It was a kiss. Sherlock Holmes, the man who let no one touch him in this manner, and touched no one else, was kissing him. It was small, somewhat quick, but the touch lingered. John pulled back, slamming his head into the door his mouth agape, wide open, and Sherlock's face for once and probably the only time, turned a bizare shade of light pink, the redness in his cheeks revealing just how truly flustered he really was. John put a hand to his mouth and turned and quickly rushed out the doors, leaving Sherlock to work himself out, and the man headed home, confused and bewildered. As his steps grew heavy he was unsure of how he was feeling, how he should be feeling weather he was angry or over joyed or just content knowing his feelings weren't off.

He swallowed hard, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked home, his legs heavy and his arms tired. He arrived only to smell diner on the stove and Ms. Hudson humming. John walked in removing his jacket and sliding on a sweater and a pair of his favorite pajama pants, sliding on his slippers as well. He walked into the kitchen, waving to the elderly woman who called him over.

"I gotta run. Night out with the girls. Here's dinner, it's ready, help yourself"

"Ahh thank you Ms. Hudson. Don't get to crazy tonight!" The woman took her leave giving John a sweet pat on the head, and a kiss on the cheek, and the man just stared at the pasta in the pan, and swallowed hard, walking to his computer, and opening it slowly and getting on his blog, and began to write. One sentence was all it took, enough to leave people curious. Enough to make them wonder.

"Sherlock Holmes kissed me" The voice startled John, who looked around, confused. He was standing in the kitchen his eyes on the food, he blinked and looked to where he'd heard the voice.

"Sh-sherlock? When did you get here?" The man ignored the question.

"John, listen, I have not a single clue what came over me in that lab..not a clue. I apologize for my acts, but I also ask you stop posting stuff like this on yoru blog, please?" He asked, more like pleaded with the doctor who pushed him aside, walking back to his computer where he took a seat, scratching at the wavy hair on his head.

"What does it matter if I do or don't people on here still think your dead, now they just think I'm a loon and no one reads it anymore... Its become more of a place to put my thoughts really" john said, his voice dull and quiet, and he refused to look the detective in the eye.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm not the one whom has to worry right? If you took the words that left your mouth to heart than you'd take me seriously, John! I apologized for my mistake and I've been doing so since you waltzed back in here sobbing on me. Your mixed body language is giving me the wrong sign, and I don't know if you're aware but you CAN'T DO THAT TO ME FOR GOD SAKES JOHN! I've never been more confused and...and flat out...OFF about something in my whole LIFE." John finally looked up only to see Sherlock, angry, furious even, his lips pressed thin, his eyes red and his face red as well. John stood his ground though, and glared at him.

"Listen, I don't know what you're getting at but if you even THINK I have...feelings for you than you're wr-" Sherlock turned around laughing for a moment before turning back his face of rage returning.

"Stop lying to yourself! The whole damn world can see it! You're flustered faces, your dreams, you say my name in your SLEEP JOHN. You MOAN my name. Not just whisper or cry out, you MOAN my name. I have to silence you with a pillow to keep Ms. Hudson or the neighbors from hearing you. THAT, and you have become this...hollow human being that unknowingly DEPENDS on me to survive. You don't eat or drink unless I'm present, and remind you to do so. You can sit for WEEKS and think only a day has passed. You're so bloody INCOHERENT of it, its astounding you're even still here, and even if just for a second you've had feelings for me, what would be wrong with that? You said yourself that no matter what I was dating, it was all fine, those words left your mouth did they not?" He asked and John just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, as if he was mind blown at what Sherlock was saying. He looked behind him and saw the door was closed and he licked his lips, standing up.

"You're so..confusing... I say you're boring John but I still haven't figured you out. I can read you, but not your emotions.. I don't...I can't understand. I never will be able to and I'm not asking for your help or for you to TEACH me. I... I just.. I don't understand. It's damn near impossible and it's as if with every word you utter in your sleep, while your mind is elsewhere or...while you grow silent, I'm left wondering, no..KNOWING, its all my fault..." John knew he'd have to sit and seriously question himself for this later, but now, this was all he could do. He walked towards Sherlock and placed his hands on either side of his shoulders and pulled him close, allowing his lips to crash upon the taller mans, the kiss sloppy and much less passionate and "cute" than the kiss Sherlock had given him earlier, but he needed to calm the man down, needed to let him know it was ok, that everything was OK.

"Did you crack the case?" He asked after pulling away. He felt Sherlocks legs quivering and his lip mimicked the action, showing how shocked and rather confused he was, he blinked twice.

"T...The wife of the boss did it...Needed the money...all of the people killed were her...lovers..all said they'd leave her a fee when they passed...age gaps..you know..." his voice was just a whisper. John knowingly stared into his eyes, and Sherlock swallowed hard, taking a sharp breath.

"Thats...thats good... I'm sorry" Sherlock shook his head and grabbed John again, pressing his lips sweetly to John's only for his bottom lip to be nipped at by the shorter man, causing him to flinch and pull his head back. John gasped and coughed a moment, Sherlock stepped away, his face pink again. A few tense moments passed and John stood clearing his throat awkwardly.

"So...Time for bed I suppose?" Sherlock nodded, and silently, slowly walked away, his steps heavy, and as John walked into his room, riding himself of his sweater, and pajama bottoms, he stood now in nothing more than an under shirt and black boxers.

"I can't sleep..." John jumped at the sound of Sherlock's voice and turned to face him. His hair was messy, his clothes clearly thrown on in a hurry, and John rolled his eyes getting in bed motioning for him to get in.

"JUST tonight Sherlock" The detective once again latched onto John, and the blond let him, switching the light off, his thoughts now scattered as he asked himself, in a heap of worry and lust and sheer confusion and desire.

"_What have I done?" _


End file.
